


seven stars

by boychik



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: American AU, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Smoking, Underage Smoking, fuwa fuwa, get cavities and die, middle school dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychik/pseuds/boychik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mitsubishi JT-42E,” says Aoba.</p><p>“Dude, that’s awesome,” Koujaku says.</p><p>“I know, right,” says Aoba.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seven stars

They’ve come to stand at the foot of the steps behind their middle school.

“Shit, I missed this place,” Aoba says. He sits down on the concrete and sighs heavily. 

“All those times getting takeout Chinese instead of going to seventh period history,” Koujaku says, sitting down next to him. “Good times at Roosevelt.”

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Aoba says, kicking at the step. “History class was totally stupid.”

“Who was the sixth president?” Koujaku asks.

Aoba turns to him with a winning smile. “I don’t believe I could care less.”

“Attaboy,” says Koujaku, clapping Aoba on the back.

Aoba lets Koujaku’s hand rest on his shoulder. They’re silent for a moment, staring at a jet plane crossing the blue summer sky.

“Mitsubishi JT-42E,” says Aoba.

“Dude, that’s awesome,” Koujaku says.

“I know, right,” says Aoba.

Koujaku pulls out a pack of Seven Stars.

“Wanna try?” Koujaku says, slipping a cigarette between his fingers and rolling it around.

“No.” Aoba keeps staring at the package. “Where’d you get it?”

“No matter,” Koujaku says. (He swiped it from his mom’s house over spring break. She had so many packs in the front hall it’s not like she’d notice if one went missing.) “Here, I’ll show you how.” He places a cigarette between Aoba’s lips (so pretty, he almost gets distracted) and reaches into his bag.

“Ieelunny,” Aoba says. “Ishall papery.”

Koujaku flicks the end of the lighter he bought at 7-11 last month. On the second try, a flame springs from the sparks. He lights his own cigarette, then turns to Aoba, and leans to light his, looking up at his friend.

“Just like the movies,” Aoba says. He’s smiling a little around his Seven Stars, could he be impressed? Koujaku’s heart leaps a little at the thought, but he plays it cool. Cool as a fourteen-year-old kid with a burning crush in a freezer in Antarctica. In the Ice Age. With sunglasses, and a well-tailored suit. Yeah, that’s me, Koujaku thinks as a blush creeps up the back of his neck. Suave as hell.

“Right on!” Koujaku says. “Like that movie with Humphrey Bogart, and that one girl.”

“Lauren Bacall,” says Aoba.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Aoba’s cigarette is almost down to the stub when Koujaku rips it out of his mouth and throws it away.

“Dude!” Aoba looks at him. “I was gonna…” But then he notices Koujaku’s face, so very near and so very, very red—and honestly, as dumb as Aoba acted the past three years, he wasn’t that slow. He may not now or ever know the name of a single emperor of Japan, but he pretty much knows that Koujaku’s straight as a slinky.

Still, he can’t account for the lump that’s suddenly sprung up at the back of his throat or the maddening blush that’s suddenly affixed itself to his skin, or the sudden, rapid jackhammer that’s taken the place of his heart.

He tries to swallow, but can’t manage. All he can do is lean in, softly and slowly, place his own mouth over Koujaku’s, and close his eyes.

His lips are softer than Aoba expected, and he wonders why he’s never noticed that despite the cigarette, Koujaku smells so _good._

They break the kiss after what feels like ages, even though it’s really only been a few seconds.

“Aoba…” Koujaku’s eyes are still shut tight, his face still red. Aoba sees this and laughs a little; is he really something to be frightened of? To his relief, his friend opens his eyes and smiles.

“You taste disgusting,” Aoba laughs. He’s trying to cover up his own dumb smile by wiping at his lips. So transparent, so utterly adorable.

“So do you,” Koujaku shoots back, high on the kiss.

“You’re such a bad influence, what would Tae-san say…” Aoba says, still smiling. Koujaku doesn’t have the time to answer, so quickly does Aoba press his mouth into another kiss.

“We…we can’t let anyone find out, you know,” Koujaku says, brows furrowed.

Aoba doesn’t say anything. Instead he plucks the cigarette from between Koujaku’s fingers and sticks it in his mouth. He takes a drag, and releases the smoke into the sky.

“You’re a natural,” Koujaku says.

“We won’t,” Aoba says finally. “But if no one finds out…” He turns to Koujaku, and even scrawny Aoba with his half-lidded gaze and languid grip of the cigarette is so reminiscent of an old-time movie star that Koujaku has to force back a smile. “You’re more than free to kiss me again.”


End file.
